Two Kinds of Stitches
by nightmareknight01
Summary: Just who is this Stein...? Does he hold the key to dealing the final blow and releasing me... forever? A single piece of the big picture; a building love story. How it all began.


"Will you dissect me?"

Those had been the first words I ever spoke to him… Dr. Stein.

What had he said then? Those grey orbs of his spiraling hungrily up and down my body. His mouth twitched, spreading into a frightening sneer and without a reply, he snatched me away, pulling me into the shadows.

I allowed him to lead me into the path of the night, fully welcoming the comfort of Death. I followed with a sense of purpose, a sickening desire for my own blood to be spilt and to silence me forever. My heart pounded, aching at the touch of his trembling hands, squeezing tightly as though afraid I would suddenly have a change of heart and flee from the mad man. He maintained his frantic pace, that delirious smile, licking his lips with what I assumed to be the eagerness of witnessing my suffering.

Stein. The scientist with the craving of examination. Experimentation. Dissection.

I swallowed a churning wave of nausea.

The place he led me to had been none other than his own estate, darkened by the madness of the cackling moon choking on a waterfall of what appeared to be blood. The sight sent horrible chills down my spine as I was suddenly pulled into the darkness of an open door.

The means of my escape were limited as a booming echo filled the ominous, pitch black room. A gasp leaked through my dry, cracked lips as I instinctively leaped away from my captor. He was as still as a statue however, jerking me back in his direction, colliding my head against his chest. I could feel the outlines of the stitches on his undershirt gently scratching my cheek as I whimpered quietly. Looking up I saw not the friendly face in the halls of the DWMA, but the fiery red eyes of a ravenous demon.

I quickly glanced away, biting my lip.

He continued tugging me along the household blindly, no doubt familiar with the structure of the place. He resided here after all. We began to descend down a flight of stairs, my chest drumming with each 'click' of my light steps and his thunderous 'clop' growing more hurried as we neared are destination.

I had begun to wonder if he was guiding me to the fires of Hell itself when he finally stopped in his tracks, his grip remaining persistent on keeping me in close distance. I heard the ruffling of clothing as he shifted over to flick on a switch. We were rewarded with blinding light as I cringed, waiting for time to adjust to the sudden brightness.

A laboratory. Why was I not surprised?

I had suddenly found myself laughing. Not a mere chuckle or a nervous snort, but that of a hyena like fit of hysterical, psychotic laughter. Stein observed me curiously, his eyes crinkling in a sort of humorous gesture. Something flickered briefly in his green stare then; what it pity? Perhaps a mournful moment of something from his past? I thought better than to pry seeing as though what was to occur next wasn't exactly considered friendly behavior.

He refrained from speaking. Never before had this man spoken to me, personally. I have heard his voice a couple of times regarding fellow instructors or Lord Death himself, but never had he paid any attention towards me.

I secretly smiled to myself; of course who would?

The world seemed to lurch then as my vision faded for a few seconds, and I was suddenly on a bench. No, perhaps it was a table… yes, the one I saw resting just a short distance from where the stairs ended. It reeked of something metallically. The distinct smell of iron and rust made me shudder and I found myself gazing upward at my soon to be killer. Directly beside his gray clump of hair was a light so I had to squint to observe the pale glint of his glasses. That damn sneer remained glued to his face.

In a blink, he was gone and I was left with my thoughts. I had come to him with a set mind, yet I started to have my doubts. However, as I tried to shift my legs to a more comfortable position on the horrid surface of the lab table, a loud metal like sound of something clinking against the surface grabbed at my attention.

Sure enough, I slowly peered over to find I had been shackled to the station.

So much for decisions.

It was too late to back out then, so I waited as Stein re-appeared with an object in hand.

A scalpel.

I swallowed, then exhaled.

His eyebrows lifted questionably as if questioning my request a final time, but I knew better. I had no actual say in the matter. I gave him an acceptable nod, clenching my fists, squeezing my eyes shut, bracing for the pain.

But there came none.

In fact… As I pondered there, contemplating how my life turned out. Wondering what death truly felt like; was it quick and painless? Was it agonizingly painful and endless? I felt a disturbance along the outlines of my arm. I was so undeniably terrified I couldn't tell left from right. I had thought this was the order of the process. Yet again, no pain followed.

Had he been taking his delicious time, planning for the most suffering way to end my life? I hadn't the faintest clue. This Stein was a mystery to me and I simply shuddered as I felt the cloth of my sleeves rip away to reveal my skin.

Then I grasped reality and opened my eyes with a start. "St-"I had tried to warn him, shameful at my condition, praying with an absurd wish that he wouldn't see the scars that decorated every inch of my flesh. The horrible, disgusting marks of my childhood, my life history, everything I was. Forgetting of the chains bounding me to the table, I pushed myself up to a sitting position, stunned to find my restraints had never actually been secured. They slipped away with ease and I was left to stare bewilderingly at the Doctor gazing fascinatingly at my painted wrists.

My god how I begged he would say something; anything. How I screamed for him to slam me back upon the metal surface and drive that blade straight into my heart. But he remained fixated on those atrocious, permanent memories.

The person I saw before me was a completely changed man.

His gaze flicked once towards me and I felt myself flush, embarrassed to be witnessed in such a weak state. I trembled at the intensity of his somber expression, his corners twisting downwards into a tragic grimace. No doubt he pitied me. I was a weakling to him. A pathetic girl crying for release to a stranger, resorting to self-inflicted pain and the cowardly spirit of one unable to deliver the fatal blow upon herself.

With a free hand, he reached to wipe at my face. I blinked in surprise. He pulled his fingers away, rubbing them together to reveal something wet sliding in between. … A teardrop…

Never before had I been touched so delicately like that. Never before had anyone seen my marks and didn't turn away, repulsed, but rather held it in such a comforting manner. Never before had I gazed into eyes so grey, so full of suffering and anguish equal to my own, reflecting a sort of message than I wasn't alone.

Never before had I felt this strange swelling somewhere in the thrashing of my heart and the expanding of my lungs. I seemed to be both out of breath and choking from large bubbles of air at the same time when I thought it to be impossible. My vision blurred into a single beam directed at him. My cheeks grew quite warm and I had begun to wonder if I was suffering from a fever at the moment.

Never before had someone's gaze held this much power to cause so much panic.

His lips quivered during my confusion state, suggesting his first words to me.

For reasons I could not explain, I grew excited and scared at the same time.

He inhaled. Then exhaled.

"You've already damaged such beautiful skin," he whispered almost to himself.

My face reddened into an even deeper shade.

Only a simple sentence yet it held such hidden meaning. It tumbled out as a sigh. A hint of disappointment? Sadness? He eventually released my arm to shake his head to himself. Was he angry? No… he still had that hanged expression, one of defeat and concern. I hadn't a single clue. A mystery this Stein.

I blinked speechlessly, rubbing the spots where his touch left invisible imprints. I traced them unknowingly, watching as he adjusted his specs to close his eyes in a welcoming and childish manner, smiling kindly. My stomach grew tense as he reached out once more to pat my head three times. I shut my eyes with each impact, growing more unstable under his care or whatever this was.

Then he walked away to retreat to his quarters.

That was the day I moved in with the man named Franken Stein.

That was the day I fell in love.


End file.
